Oh, there is something so deeply disturbing about him-- she knows what it is, she knows he's something beyond human. He's said as much on the network, but she doesn't let it frighten her.
He needs her. Or he needs someone, and she is restless enough, unhappy enough, angry enough that she can listen to this. "So you need someone to help," she states, as she takes another small sip.
"Always," he agrees, "But what I really need is someone who cares what the lies and the ignorance mean. Someone who can be angry about it without losing perspective."
He looks at her a moment, and lets that speak: of course she's not; he's been at this much, much longer than he's said, and he is exhausted from it.
"What you've said, especially earlier, is the sort of perspective I've been looking for. Some have parts of it," so she's not the first to come to mind, and he has people already working for him, "But only parts."
She considers him for a second, rubbing a thumb over her lower lip. She looks to the side of her, to see if there still isn't anyone really close- how she wishes for a tap to run right now, a radio to turn on to drown out their noise. It's a habit more than anything, which started when she was a girl and just became more necessary since she joined the KGB.
"So don't try to tell me you don't already have files on people," she says, finally. If he doesn't, she won't.
"A warden who left almost a year ago, Scott, Jean. Bits and pieces on Iris," which he is pretty sure she might suspect. Iris is crafty so he tends to just throw caution to the wind and run with whatever impulse strikes him when she's around. "When I have temps, I try to pick up a few things about them."
"Oh, everything. The parts that seem innocent are often where you can find the most important information." If he hadn't been a lawyer he thinks he might have been a historian; he loves sifting details.
Or a spy, really. It's where she lives, in those details, in those little
things she can use as hooks.
She nods again, running her thumbnail over her lower lip in thought. "I
have some things, too." On far more people than that, and she suspects he's
lying about his amount.
"What kind of things?" He is lying, of course. And he doesn't just keep notes on wardens. But you don't give everything away at a first meeting, or at all, if you can help it. Especially not without hearing something in return.
"Things they tell me," she shrugs. "Where people are from, what year..."
Really, anything. But he must know that, too. The problem with these kinds
of alliances is just this: neither of them can really trust the other, and
that doesn't often make for a productive partnership.
She gives him a little smile, then pulls out her communicator to scroll
through her list of contacts- the same as his.
"Scott Summers? Or Jesse Pinkman- but he's so new." She hasn't read back
quite far enough to know the exact relationship between Lark and Jesse from
before.
"He's not," Lark says, and Jesse is off-limits in the sense of pack. Except he isn't pack anymore. In any case, Lark has too much information on him to share with Elizabeth right now.
"Scott's interesting." And also off-limits in certain ways, but not this one. Not when it's just a matter of sharing information. "But he does have his own inmate and they are close."
He reaches under a stack of books and retrieves a laptop, one that's newer looking but layered with Swedish stickers daring people to go fuck themselves.
"How about..." He searches, searches. "Iris."
Again, because she's been here a long time, and because he doubts she'd care, so there's minimal risk to him if Elizabeth chooses to turn on him about this.
"You have yours ready?" But he doesn't wait to check, he'll give her this bit of trust, that she won't just take what he offers and run.
His file is typed up in shorthand, his personal code, so some of it may not make sense. But what he is plain about is what he knows of Iris's past lives, what she's shared about her physiology, her explanation of the time-space continuum.
The word "BUS" with a question mark before and after it.
And a number at the bottom: 4.3 next to last week's date.
Before she replies she puts her hand over the information-- he should know, then. "It's all in my cabin. I don't carry those things around with me."
She already collapsed in the showers, once. She's not risking that again, even if it's all coded.
When she's told him that she uncovers the file again, and looks down at it. She can't decode everything, but what he has is interesting-- Iris talks on the network often enough that she has most of this, but she didn't know everything. At the end, she looks up, pointing at the 4.3.
It makes her smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners before she hands him the info back.
"I'll need a few minutes if I'm going to get you my information." Because it's all coded with different One Time Pads, and it'll definitely make her look like a spy if she brings it in like that.
If he's surprised that she needs time, he doesn't show it. After all, if she goes digging on his computer, she'll run into encryptions that Lisbeth Salander taught him. He decoded a handful to offer her, and to make himself seem less paranoid as well.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He needs her. Or he needs someone, and she is restless enough, unhappy enough, angry enough that she can listen to this. "So you need someone to help," she states, as she takes another small sip.
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Like her, yes.
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"What you've said, especially earlier, is the sort of perspective I've been looking for. Some have parts of it," so she's not the first to come to mind, and he has people already working for him, "But only parts."
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"So don't try to tell me you don't already have files on people," she says, finally. If he doesn't, she won't.
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"And do you want to write everything? Or just the incriminating parts?"
She can do both, really.
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Or a spy, really. It's where she lives, in those details, in those little things she can use as hooks.
She nods again, running her thumbnail over her lower lip in thought. "I have some things, too." On far more people than that, and she suspects he's lying about his amount.
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"Things they tell me," she shrugs. "Where people are from, what year..."
Really, anything. But he must know that, too. The problem with these kinds of alliances is just this: neither of them can really trust the other, and that doesn't often make for a productive partnership.
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"We should compare files on someone we have in common."
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She gives him a little smile, then pulls out her communicator to scroll through her list of contacts- the same as his.
"Scott Summers? Or Jesse Pinkman- but he's so new." She hasn't read back quite far enough to know the exact relationship between Lark and Jesse from before.
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"Scott's interesting." And also off-limits in certain ways, but not this one. Not when it's just a matter of sharing information. "But he does have his own inmate and they are close."
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"So you propose someone," she suggests, shrugging and picking up her glass again.
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"How about..." He searches, searches. "Iris."
Again, because she's been here a long time, and because he doubts she'd care, so there's minimal risk to him if Elizabeth chooses to turn on him about this.
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"And then we see whether we're a match in this."
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His file is typed up in shorthand, his personal code, so some of it may not make sense. But what he is plain about is what he knows of Iris's past lives, what she's shared about her physiology, her explanation of the time-space continuum.
The word "BUS" with a question mark before and after it.
And a number at the bottom: 4.3 next to last week's date.
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She already collapsed in the showers, once. She's not risking that again, even if it's all coded.
When she's told him that she uncovers the file again, and looks down at it. She can't decode everything, but what he has is interesting-- Iris talks on the network often enough that she has most of this, but she didn't know everything. At the end, she looks up, pointing at the 4.3.
"What does that mean?"
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"I'll need a few minutes if I'm going to get you my information." Because it's all coded with different One Time Pads, and it'll definitely make her look like a spy if she brings it in like that.
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"Sounds fair."
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She throws back her drink, but before she stands up she smiles at him.
"I'm glad you asked me here. It's good to know that there are more people who care about these things."
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